Don Quixote [Trans. by Edith Grossman] (90 page)

“Thou must also confess and believe,” added Don Quixote, “that the knight whom thou hast vanquished was not, nor could he be, Don Quixote of La Mancha, but another who resembled him, as I confess and believe that although thou resemblest Bachelor Sansón Carrasco, thou art not he but another who resembleth him, and that mine enemies hath placed his figure before me so that I may halt and temper the force of mine anger, and be gentle in how I use the glory of thy defeat.”

“I confess, judge, and accept everything that you believe, judge, and accept,” responded the knight with the injured back. “Let me get up, I beg you, if my fall will allow that, because it has left me badly battered.”

Don Quixote helped him to his feet, as did his squire, Tomé Cecial, and Sancho could not take his eyes off him, asking him questions whose answers were clear indications that he really was the same Tomé Cecial he said he was; but the apprehension created in Sancho by what his mas
ter had said about the enchanters transforming the figure of the Knight of the Mirrors into that of Bachelor Carrasco did not permit him to give credence to the truth he was seeing with his own eyes. In short, both master and servant were deceived, and the Knight of the Mirrors and his squire, gloomy and out of sorts, rode away from Don Quixote and Sancho, intending to find a place where they could plaster and tape the knight’s ribs. Don Quixote and Sancho continued on their way to Zaragoza, where the history leaves them in order to give an accounting of who the Knight of the Mirrors and his big-nosed squire were.

CHAPTER XV

Don Quixote was filled with contentment, pride, and vainglory at having achieved victory over so valiant a knight as he imagined the Knight of the Mirrors to be, and from his chivalric promise he hoped to learn if the enchantment of his lady was still in effect, since it was necessary for the conquered knight to return, under pain of no longer being a knight, to tell him what had transpired with her. But Don Quixote thought one thing and the Knight of the Mirrors thought another, for his only thought then was to find a place where he could apply a plaster, as has already been said.

And so, the history tells us that when Bachelor Sansón Carrasco advised Don Quixote to return to the chivalric undertakings he had abandoned, it was because he first had spoken privately with the priest and the barber regarding the steps that could be taken to prevail upon Don Quixote to remain quietly and peacefully at home and not be disturbed by ill-fated adventures; and the decision of this meeting was, by unanimous vote and the particular support of Carrasco, that they would allow Don Quixote to leave, since it seemed impossible to stop him, and that Sansón, as a knight errant, would meet him on the road and engage in combat with him, for there was no lack of reasons to fight, and he would vanquish him, on the assumption that this would
be an easy thing to do, and it would be agreed and accepted that the vanquished would be at the mercy of the victor, and when Don Quixote had been vanquished, the bachelor-knight would order him to return to his village and his house and not leave again for two years, or until he had commanded otherwise; it was clear that the vanquished Don Quixote would undoubtedly obey in order not to contravene or disrespect the laws of chivalry, and it might be that in the time of his seclusion he would forget his illusions, or a worthwhile remedy would be found to cure his madness.

Carrasco agreed, and Tomé Cecial, Sancho Panza’s compadre and neighbor, and a cheerful, lighthearted man, volunteered to be his squire. Sansón armed himself in the manner described, and Tomé Cecial placed on his natural nose the false nose already referred to, so that his compadre would not recognize him when they met; they followed the same route taken by Don Quixote, and they almost arrived in time to take part in the adventure of the cart of Death. Finally, they met in the wood, where everything the prudent reader has just read happened to them, and if it had not been for Don Quixote’s extraordinary ideas that led him to believe the bachelor was not the bachelor, Señor Bachelor would have been forever incapable of receiving his licentiate’s degree, for he thought he would find birds and did not even find nests.

Tomé Cecial, who saw how badly their plans had turned out and how unfortunately their journey had ended, said to the bachelor:

“Certainly, Señor Sansón Carrasco, we’ve gotten what we deserved: it’s easy enough to think up and begin an enterprise, but most of the time it’s hard to end it. Don Quixote’s crazy, we’re sane, and he walks away healthy and laughing, while your grace is bruised and sad. So tell me now, who’s crazier: the man who’s crazy because he can’t help it or the man who chooses to be crazy?”

To which Sansón responded:

“The difference between those two madmen is that the one who can’t help it will always be mad, and the one who chooses can stop whenever he wants to.”

“Well, that’s true,” said Tomé Cecial. “I chose to be crazy when I decided to become your grace’s squire, and by the same token I want to stop now and go back home.”

“That may be convenient for you,” responded Sansón, “but if you think I’ll go back to mine before I’ve given Don Quixote a good beating, then you are sadly mistaken; I’m moved now not by the desire to help
him recover his sanity, but by the desire for revenge; the terrible pain in my ribs does not allow me to speak more piously.”

The two men conversed in this manner until they reached a village where they happened to find a bonesetter who cured the unfortunate Sansón. Tomé Cecial turned back and left him, and Sansón remained behind to imagine his revenge, and the history speaks of him again at the proper time, but it joyfully returns now to Don Quixote.

CHAPTER XVI

With the joy, contentment, and pride that have already been mentioned, Don Quixote continued his journey, imagining, because of his recent victory, that he was the world’s most valiant knight errant of the age; he considered any adventures that might befall him from that time on as already completed and brought to a happy conclusion; he held enchantments and enchanters in contempt; he did not recall the countless beatings he had received in the course of his chivalric exploits, or the stones that had knocked out half his teeth, or the ingratitude of the galley slaves, or the Yanguesans’ audacious rainstorm of staffs. In short, he said to himself that if he could find the art, means, or manner to disenchant his lady Dulcinea, he would not envy the greatest good fortune that ever was achieved or could be achieved by the most fortunate knight errant of past times. He was completely lost in these thoughts when Sancho said:

“Isn’t it funny, Señor, that I still can see the awful outsize nose of my compadre Tomé Cecial?”

“Do you still believe, Sancho, that the Knight of the Mirrors was Bachelor Carrasco, and your compadre Tomé Cecil was his squire?”

“I don’t know what to say about that,” responded Sancho. “All I know is that he was the only one who could have told me what he did about my house, my wife, and my children, and except for the nose, his face was the face of Tomé Cecial, just as I have seen it so often in my village and in his house that shares a wall with mine, and the sound of his voice was the same.”

“Let us reason about this, Sancho,” replied Don Quixote. “Come, does it make sense that Bachelor Sansón Carrasco should appear as a knight errant, armed with offensive and defensive weapons, to do battle with me? Have I, by chance, been his enemy? Have I ever given him reason to bear me ill will? Am I his rival, or does he profess arms, that he would be envious of the fame I have won through their exercise?”

“But what do we say, Señor,” responded Sancho, “about that knight, whoever he was, looking so much like Bachelor Carrasco, and his squire looking like my compadre Tomé Cecial? If it’s enchantment, like your grace says, weren’t there any other men in the world they could have looked like?”

“Everything is artifice and mere appearance,” responded Don Quixote, “devised by the evil magicians who pursue me; foreseeing that I would emerge victorious from the battle, they arranged for the defeated knight to show the face of my friend the bachelor, so that the friendship I have for him would be placed between the edges of my sword, and stay the severity of my arm, and temper the righteous anger of my heart, and in this manner the one who was attempting to take my life through trickery and falsehood would save his own. As proof of this you already know, O Sancho, through experience that will not allow you to lie or deceive, how easy it is for enchanters to transform one face into another, making the beautiful ugly and the ugly beautiful; no more than two days ago you saw with your own eyes the beauty and grace of the peerless Dulcinea in all her natural perfection and harmony, and I saw her as an ugly, lowborn peasant girl with cataracts in her eyes and a foul smell in her mouth; further, if the perverse enchanter dared to make so evil a transformation, it is not difficult to believe that he transformed Sansón Carrasco and your compadre in order to steal the glory of conquest right out of my hands. But despite this I am comforted, because in the end, regardless of his shape and appearance, I have conquered my enemy.”

“God knows the truth of all things,” responded Sancho.

And since he knew that the transformation of Dulcinea had been his own trickery and deception, the chimerical ideas of his master did not satisfy him, but he did not wish to respond so as not to say anything that might reveal his lie.

They were engaged in this conversation when they were overtaken by a man riding behind them on the same road, mounted on a very beautiful dapple mare and wearing a coat of fine green cloth trimmed with tawny velvet and a cap made of the same velvet; the mare’s trappings, in
the rustic style and with a short stirrup, were also purple and green. He wore a Moorish scimitar hanging from a wide green and gold swordbelt, and his half boots matched his swordbelt; his spurs were not gilt but touched with a green varnish, so glossy and polished that, since they matched the rest of his clothing, they looked better than if they had been made of pure gold. When the traveler reached them he greeted them courteously and spurred his mare in order to pass by, but Don Quixote said:

“Gallant Señor, if your grace is traveling the same road and is not in a hurry, I would be very pleased if we traveled together.”

“The truth is,” responded the man on the mare, “that I would not ride by so quickly if it were not for my fear that the presence of my mare might disturb your horse.”

“Señor,” Sancho responded at this point, “you can certainly, certainly tighten your mare’s reins, because our horse is the most chaste, best-behaved horse in the world; on similar occasions he has never done anything low or base, and once when he was rude enough to try, my master and I made him pay for it seven times over. I say again that your grace can stop if you want to, because even if she’s brought to him on a silver platter, I’m sure our horse won’t even look your mare in the face.”

The traveler pulled on his reins, marveling at the bearing and face of Don Quixote, who rode without his sallet helmet, which Sancho had hung like a bag over the forebow of the donkey’s packsaddle; and if the man in green looked at Don Quixote a great deal, Don Quixote looked even more at the man in green, thinking him a virtuous and judicious person. He seemed to be about fifty, with few gray hairs and an aquiline face; his aspect was both cheerful and grave; in short, his dress and bearing made it clear that he was a man of good qualities.

The judgment of the man in green with regard to Don Quixote of La Mancha was that he had never seen anyone like him in manner or appearance; he was amazed by the length of his horse, his height, his thin, sallow face, his weapons, his bearing and behavior: a form and appearance not seen for many long years in that land. Don Quixote noticed how attentively the traveler was looking at him and read his desires in his astonishment, and since Don Quixote was courteous and wished to please everyone, before the traveler could ask anything he met him halfway, saying:

“Your grace has noticed my appearance, which is so unusual and far
removed from what is commonly seen that I am not surprised at your surprise, but your grace will no longer be so when I tell you, as I do now, that I am a knight,

I left my home, mortgaged my estate, left behind my comfort, and threw myself into the arms of Fortune so that she may carry me wherever she chooses. I have desired to revive a long-dead knight errantry, and for many days, stumbling here, falling there, dropping down in one place and standing up in another, I have fulfilled a good part of my desire, helping widows, protecting maidens, favoring married women, orphans, and wards, which is the proper and natural work of knights errant; because of my many worthy Christian deeds, I have deserved to be published in almost all or most of the nations in the world. Thirty thousand copies of my history have been printed, and thirty thousand thousand times more are on their way to being printed if heaven does not intervene. Briefly then, to summarize everything in a few words, or in only one, I say that I am Don Quixote of La Mancha, also known as the Knight of the Sorrowful Face, and although praising oneself is vile, I am obliged perhaps to sing my own praises, which is understandable since there is no one present to do it for me; and so, Señor, neither this horse nor this lance, this shield nor this squire, nor all of my armor, nor my sallow face and extreme thinness: none of this should surprise you now, for I have told you who I am and the profession I follow.”

Don Quixote fell silent when he said this, and the man in green took so long to respond that it seemed he did not know what to say, but after some time he said:

“You were correct, Señor Knight, in deducing my desire from my surprise, but you have not taken away the astonishment that seeing you has caused me, for although, Señor, you say my knowing who you are will take it away, that has not happened; rather, now that I know, I am more amazed and astonished than before. How is it possible that there are knights errant in the world today or that there are printed histories of true knightly deeds? I can’t convince myself that anyone in the world today favors widows, protects maidens, honors married women, and helps orphans, and I wouldn’t believe it if I hadn’t seen it in your grace with my own eyes. Heaven be praised! With the history that your grace
says has been published about your lofty and true chivalric feats, the countless tales of imaginary knights errant will be forgotten, for they have filled the world, harming good customs and damaging and discrediting good histories.”